


We are better when we are (not) together.

by wannabe_free



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabe_free/pseuds/wannabe_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is Louis’ best friend and is Harry’s least favorite person in the world.</p><p>He comes into the coffee shop almost every day and he stuffs himself with pancakes or muffins or crepes (whatever stupidly caloric food he can get his hands on). Mostly though, he just distracts Louis from doing his job properly.</p><p>He basically meets all the conditions that Harry dislikes in a person: he’s lazy, promiscuous, and obnoxious. Not to mention his lack of manners and self-imposed distancing from anything related to culture.</p><p>That’s the reason why, whenever the Irish boy shows up in the coffee shop in his scanty tank tops (which tend to leave a nipple on display), his snapbacks and chav trackies – his blond hair styled in a ridiculous high quiff, Harry always makes a point to be in the back room where he feels safe from Niall’s stupidity.</p><p>Narry coffee shop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are better when we are (not) together.

**Author's Note:**

> So, afte finishing growing up I needed to write some more narry. This is sorta inspired in example's song kickstart and it's so very cliche and plain that I cringe, I hope you like it anyway. My beta is shonji in tumblr, so thanks a lot to her :) if you want to give me tips or prompts or whatever I'm ziallfornication in there.

A strong built man exits the coffee shop and the door closes after him. Harry takes a quick look around just to realize that the place it’s now empty of costumers. As soon as this happens, Louis is already all over him, smirking knowingly when he notices Harry’s flushed neck.

 

 “He was cute.” He teases, “And obviously interested.”

 

Harry huffs and wipes his hands on his apron. Then, he makes a point to ignore Louis and busies himself wiping the counter clean.

 

“When was the last time you got laid?” Louis insists.

 

Harry steals a disbelieving glance at him over his shoulder, “None of your business.” He snaps.

 

“Well,” Louis retorts, “It’s kinda my business when I have to put up with you being an arsehole all the time.”

 

Harry lets go of the rag, mutters, “Okay, Louis. Whatever,” and disappears towards the back room of the coffee shop, hoping he can get rid of his co-worker. Unfortunately, Louis follows him.

 

“I just don’t get it!” Louis exclaims, “You aren’t ugly or anything.”

 

Harry quirks an eyebrow and snorts, “Wow, thanks Louis. That means a lot.”

 

Louis opens his mouth to protest but there’s a gust of cold wind coming from the door and an echo of voices signaling that they have new customers. So Louis narrows his eyes, mouths, “Later,” and goes back the way he came.

 

 

 

Harry has been working in a coffee shop for the last two years.

 

The place is small and cozy with barely eight tables to serve. It has a lot of natural light and the smell of coffee always lingers in the air.

 

It’s not really frequented, either. In fact, they know the majority of their customers by their names.  (Louis is always moaning about how boring and quiet the coffee shop is.)

 

Harry, though, he doesn’t really mind the quietness, (he’ll go as far as saying that’s what he likes the most about the job) but to be fair he doesn’t have to work there as many hours as Louis does.

 

Louis works five days a week, sometimes eight hours a day. Harry, on the other hand, just works the weekends, starting Friday.

 

The rest of the time, he occupies it studying medicine in the University of London and that pretty much sums up his life; studying and working at the coffee shop.

 

Harry is hardly a sociable person. He was never a people’s person back in Cheshire, his hometown. But since he moved to London he’s been finding it more and more difficult to interact with new people, (“ _Mum, people here are weird, they smile a lot, and talk funny and eat silly food_.”) to the point where now the only place he feels comfortable, is in his own flat or at or at his workplace where not much talking is expected from him.

 Most people make him nervous. They move too fast; recklessly even. They worry about stuff that Harry considers stupid and talk about idle things. Harry feels overwhelmed around people. He reckons that he just lacks the ability to understand them (is that called empathy?).

 

Instead of letting that upset him, though, he just has given up trying. He’s done with people. Fuck people. They can all suck his dick for all he cares.

 

 

 

Harry is a creature of habit. 

 

He likes to plan things ahead.  Likes his things the way he expected them. The way he _planned_ them. And when they don’t, Harry gets in this weird mood where all he wants in get home, change his shoes for comfy slippers and forget that life is still going on outside his flat.

 

That’s probably the main reason why he gets on so well with Zayn, a guy who studies medicine with him and sits with him at lunch period. What Harry likes about Zayn is that he is just as organized as he is. So on Monday it’s Chinese. Always Chinese. On Tuesday, cold turkey from Mark and Spencer’s and the rest of the days they just bring their tupperwares from home.

 

And that’s how Harry likes his things. That’s how his brain works.

 

 

Every Friday, he wakes up early, (his phone is always programmed at 7:00 am), and he hits the gym for an hour before he heads to the coffee shop.

 

He starts his shift at ten but he likes to get there earlier, so that by the time Louis finally arrives – his eyes bleary with sleep and barely on time – Harry has already prepared two cups of coffee and a cookie to share.

 

He prepares Louis’ with caramel and whipped cream. His, is no milk and no sugar.  Slightly bitter. Just like him.

 

Louis is his mate and coworker. And it’s beyond Harry why do they get on so well, but most of the time they do.

 

Louis is loud and cheeky and so fucking nosey that sometimes Harry has to tell him to “ _back the fuck off, Louis, I mean it,”_ He’s witty and intelligent and his sense of humor is fucked up way in its own way, (Harry loves _fucked up_ ) and he secretly considers Louis his best friend. (He’d rather be dead than tell him this, though.)

 

Harry is well aware that half of their clientele just keep coming to the coffee shop because they like Louis – He is also very  aware of the general faces of disappointment whenever it’s him and not Louis who takes the orders, ( _fuck them_ ) - Louis is insolent and cheeky and nosey but he never comes out as rude.

 

Harry, however, might be just asking a customer what they would like to drink, and he will sound like the customer owes him something. It’s fine. It’s just how it is. He can’t change the way he is. ( _They can all fuck off.)_

 

 

 

A new customer comes into the coffee shop. He stands by the counter squinting at the menu for a while and then orders a cappuccino on the way.

 

 It’s eleven, (the place is always empty at eleven) and Harry is taking the orders while Louis clears the tables.

 

Harry is feeling particularly broody because this guy (Baldy, he thinks internally) has just interrupted what had been until now a very been productive study session. So he grunts and scowls until Louis nudges at his side and urges him to get out of the way.

 

 Harry observes from afar the way Louis checks on Baldy blatantly and sends him his trademark look (the one that says, hey, I was to put your dick in my mouth.) Apparently it’s infallible _,_ because Baldy is stealing quick glances at Louis’ name badge suddenly fidgety.

 

Louis puts on a show of bending over the counter to take a look at the order book, making sure that his collarbone is on full display, then asks, “Coffee on the way?”

 

Baldy stutters something. He also leans over the counter to take a peek at the battered order book before he clears his throat. “Actually, I think I’ll just have it here.”

 

A pleased smile tugs slowly at Louis’ lips. He crosses a line over Harry’s handwriting and turns around to start preparing the coffee. “It’s nice over there.” He says conversationally pointing out at an isolated table by one of the windows. “I might join you there in a bit…” Louis pauses so the customer can say his name.

 

“Liam,” Baldy finishes. “My name’s Liam.”

 

“Right, Liam,” says Louis and, when Liam attempts to get his change, he smiles with gallantry. “No, please. Let me. It’s on the house.”

 

From then on, Liam becomes a usual. In the coffee shop and in Louis’ bed.

 

 

 

It’s always quiet on Friday mornings. Louis usually hates it, because there is no work to do and Harry will refuse to distract him. So whenever there’s an opportunity to get out of the coffee shop, (go to the bank or visit a supplier) Louis always readily volunteers. That’s why Harry is all alone in the backroom of the coffee shop going through his anatomy notes and sipping on a now stone cold cuppa.

 

But the peace is short lived as he hears the front door open and close with a creak.

 

Harry gets up, stretches his limbs and walks to the customer’s area where a young, tiny blonde is perched over the counter lazily, then groans, “Oh, it’s you.”

 

Niall is Louis’ best friend and is Harry’s least favorite person in the world.

 

He comes into the coffee shop almost every day and he stuffs himself with pancakes or muffins or crepes (whatever stupidly caloric food he can get his hands on). Mostly though, he just distracts Louis from doing his job properly.

 

He basically meets all the conditions that Harry dislikes in a person: he’s lazy, promiscuous, and obnoxious. Not to mention his lack of manners and self-imposed distancing from anything related to culture.

 

That’s the reason why, whenever the Irish boy shows up in the coffee shop in his scanty tank tops (which tend to leave a nipple on display), his snapbacks and chav trackies – his blond hair styled in a ridiculous high quiff, Harry always makes a point to be in the back room where he feels safe from Niall’s stupidity.

 

The feeling is mutual though, and he knows this because whereas he actually tries to be polite with Niall, the blond won’t hesitate to scowl at Harry whenever he comes to the coffee shop. It wouldn’t be the first time that Harry hears Niall slanting him with that silly accent of his, “ _Gods, he’s a stuck up idiot, Louis, I swear.”_

 

Harry notices that he’s been spacing out when Niall clicks his tongue and questions impatiently, “Where’s Louis?”

 

“He’s not here.” Harry replies, “You might want to come later.”

 

Niall would normally accept the offer to leave readily. Today though, he looks at Harry with a smug smirk.

 

“I’ll have a café latte,” He informs.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything and busies himself by getting Niall’s order ready and once it’s done he puts it on the counter in front of Niall.

 

The blond looks at it warily, “I wouldn’t put it past you to try to poison me,” He mumbles as he leans over the cup for a closer inspection.

 

Harry rolls his eyes and walks to the back room, because it’s just Niall in the coffee shop and, despite his long list of defects, the blond is not a thief.

 

He is already sitting on the desk when he hears steps nearing towards him.

 

“You are not allowed back here,” He warns immediately.

 

Unfortunately, Niall ignores him and steps further into the small room, steaming cup in hand as he perches himself on the desk, and Harry’s hands twitch at his sides when he notices that the blond is crushing his anatomy textbook.

 

“I had a very interesting conversation with Louis last night,” The blond says casually.

 

Harry snorts through his nose because he and Niall usually have very different ideas of what is interesting and what is not. However, he doesn’t say anything.

 

 “We were talking about you when your sex life came into discussion.”  Niall adds nonchalantly.

 

Harry’s eyes shoot up to him and he can feel a blush creeping up his neck.

 

Niall leaves a pause for dramatic effect. He places his cup on the desk and Harry prays that it doesn’t stain his notes. Finally, the blonde talks again, “That would explain why you are so fucking stuck up.”

 

Harry looks up at him. He clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times. Oh, how would he like to whip that smirk away from the blonde’s presumptuous face, “What the fuck are you talking about?” He snaps instead.

 

 Niall stares down at him, and chuckles, “He told me you haven’t gotten laid for months.”

 

Harry jumps to his feet and starts shoving Niall towards the customers’ area.

 

“I already told you that you can’t be here,” He grits out, “So can you go fuck off somewhere else?”

 

Niall struggles against Harry for a while. “Hey, no need to be an arse about it,” He says breathlessly, “I will have to write a couple of things about you on the complaint form.”

 

With a last shove, Niall finally stumbles into the costumer’s area, “Niall, really, get out of my sight.” Harry grunts.

 

Niall pushes Harry’s hands away from him and fixes his jumper airily. Then, he resumes his position against the counter and says, “I could do you a favor if you are really that desperate.”

 

Harry chokes. He’s overcome with a fit of coughs that leaves him flustered and breathless.

 

He looks at Niall, his jaw slightly ajar with incredulity, as if the blond had just grown a second nose on his face. Soon though, he’s recovering from his shock and trying to come up with something witty.

 

“No thanks,” He remarks, “I, for one, have standards. Plus the last thing I need is an STD.”

 

Niall gaps at him. His mouth flapping like a fish, once, twice…   and Harry can hear the cogs turning in his head as he processes what Harry just said. Finally, he gives Harry this really loaded stare, and shakes his head in disbelief, (or is it disappointment?). Then he gets up ostentatiously and takes long strides towards the exit.

 

 “Fine then.” he shouts over his shoulder once he’s at the door, “You can keep using your hand until it falls off!”

 

Harry bites at his bottom lip until he draws blood. He is trembling with outrage and anger, still looking after Niall even though the blonde is already gone. “ _Fucker didn’t even pay for his coffee._ ” He thinks bitterly.

 

 

 

Louis, Liam and Niall hang out together all the time.

 

Harry knows this because Louis is always trying to drag him along with them.

 

“C’mon, you have to lighten up a bit, Harry,” he usually demands. But Harry is always busy. He will be skyping his mum, revising for exams that are months away or having to visit friends he doesn’t have. Busy, busy, busy.

 

There are times, though, that he has no choice but to go. For example Louis’ birthday party.

 

Harry hates parties.  And to say that he hates them is an understatement.

 

He doesn’t drink and he _definitely_ doesn’t dance, (he cringes at Liam’s sad attempt to do the Harlem shake). He doesn’t even have the excuse to leave for a smoke. So basically, he’s stuck by the bar, drinking Aquarius and talking to Louis now that he has finally stopped snogging Liam for a few seconds.

                                                                                                                         

Not far from them, Harry notices the way Niall is attempting, (and miserably failing), to chat up a boy that reminds him of Kronk from the Emperor’s New Groove, with his huge broad shoulders, his tiny waist and (this is just Harry’s assumption) his lack of brains.

 

His name is Andy. He’s Liam’s best friend and Niall is once again trying to get into his pants. They slept together once, (Louis is a terrible gossip). However, (and to Niall’s misfortune) Andy apparently never sleeps twice with the same person. And, Harry snorts internally, that says a lot about him.

 

“Poor Nialler, can’t get a hint, uh?” Louis mentions when he notices the way Andy tries to push Niall away from him.

 

“That Andy is more closely related to apes than to humans,” Harry observes, “It makes sense that Niall would try to hit on someone of his own sort.”

 

“Stop being jealous, it is not flattering.” Louis snorts.

 

Harry glares at him sideways and elbows him on the ribs.

 

Louis bends over, clutching at his stomach, “He thinks you're fit, you know?” He croaks through the pain. “Once he told me that if you were less boring and less of an arse, oh! And you know, stop wearing your grandpas clothes he wouldn’t mind having sex with you.”

 

Harry looks at him indignantly and huffs through his nose.

 

“So basically if I completely changed the way I am he would fuck with me,” He concludes, “Who does he think he is?  He thinks that everyone wants to fuck him.”

 

 Harry means it to be an insult but then he remembers that in Niall’s and Louis’ world being a slag is fashionable.

 

“Well, that’s kind of the case here, mate.” Louis mumbles after he sips on his gin and tonic.

“Oh yeah!” Harry exclaims sardonically, “It’s so flattering that everyone wants you for a random fuck and then they throw you in the bin.” Then Harry huffs  to show his indignation and hisses, “Oh, and I don’t wear my grandpa’s clothes.”

 

 

 

Later that night, Harry is sitting on one of the stools by the bar with only his glass of Aquarius to keep him company, sitting stiffly as he methodically tries to avoid getting stained with the small puddle of spilled beer on the counter. That’s how Niall finds him.

 

 “Hey man!” He greets cheerfully. “Let me buy ya drink.”

 

It takes one look at the blonde to tell he is wasted. He slings a scrawny arm around Harry’s neck and perches himself there. He’s sweaty. Harry notices. He’s sweaty and soiled with alcohol and god knows what.

 

He tries to squirm away, but he’s afraid any sudden movement might send drunk Niall flying to the floor. So he resignedly accommodates the blonde’s weight over his shoulders and grunts a no thanks.

 

“C’mon,” The blonde steals a glance at Harry’s drink and really, doesn’t he have anybody else to annoy, “What were you having? Vodka?” Niall asks leaning closer to Harry’s glass to sniff it.

 

There’s so much Harry can take, so at this he pushes Niall away, “Niall, I don’t drink alcohol.”

 

 

“Common! Just this one?” The blond asks pleadingly, “For me?”

 

“Why the sudden interest in getting me drunk, Horan?” Harry sneers, “Now that your plans have failed, are you already looking for someone else to bring home with you?” He asks, and then slowly, taking an odd delight in his own words, Harry adds, “Because I have to remind you that I am a stuck up boring idiot who wears his grandpas clothes.”

 

Niall blinks a couple of times then he narrows his eyes and pokes at Harry’s chest accusingly, “You sit here thinking that you are so much better than the rest of us, but you are not Harry, you are really not.”

 

 

 

Harry pulls on a blank face and clears his throat.  “Um, Louis. Niall hasn’t showed up this weekend, uh?”

 

Louis puts the last of the glasses in the dishwasher and closes it with a soft thud. He touches a few buttons and then takes a rag and starts wiping the counter. His eyes flicker to Harry. “Can you check if there is toilet paper in the bathrooms?” He asks.

 

Harry bites his bottom lip and nods, “Um yeah.  Already did. But... Niall, Is he sick or something?”

 

Louis puts the rag down and wipes his forehead, “No, he is not. He is just erhh, did you two fight on my birthday?”

 

“Maybe.” Harry admits, “I mean, you know how things are with us…”

 

Louis nods his head towards the broom and Harry sighs and starts sweeping the floor half- assedly.

 

After a few beats of silence, Louis furrows his eyebrows and says, “He asks about you. Like…a lot.”

 

Harry leans the broom against the wall and looks at him surprised. “Does he?” He asks.

 

Louis wiggles his eyebrows, “Is something going on, Harry? Something that I should know?”

 

Harry huffs and takes the broom again. “No Louis.” He grunts, “I’m glad we are finally able to get a few days of peace, that’s all.”

 

 

 

Niall doesn’t step foot into the coffee shop for a week. Harry doesn’t expect him. It’s Sunday. Louis doesn’t work on Sundays _and_ , and Niall definitely knows this.

 

He comes in (more like barges in) wearing his trademark grey baggy trackies and his American flag tank top. He looks comfortable but so, _so_ inadequate with his nipple slipping out, that Harry has a sudden need to take his jumper off and put it on Niall. Instead he settles for a nod and goes back to clearing the tables.

 

“Hey mate, Louis’  party was a good one, right?”

 

Harry quirks an eyebrow, wondering if Niall is talking to him. When he decides that he is, he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, yes?” He offers.

 

Niall smiles kindly at him, and whoa, what is going on? “Not your cup of tea, though. Right?” Niall asks amicably, “You prefer all the clever stuff.”

 

Harry isn’t sure what “clever stuff” means, but he decides that Niall is trying to be nice so he decides to go easy on him, “Um, well.” He starts, “If reading books and going to the cinema is considered clever stuff, then I guess I do.”

 

He scratches his neck again, feeling self-aware at the way Niall is looking at him.

 

“I like going to the cinema, too.” The blonde says.

 

The sentence hangs awkwardly in the air for a short while in which Harry looks at Niall trying to figure out what he is supposed to say.

 

Niall shifts from feet to feet and clears his throat. Then adds, “Maybe we could watch a movie together, sometime. Me and you.”

 

“You and I,”  Harry blurts out.

 

Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion, “What?”

 

“It’s you and I. You said me and you and…” Harry forces himself to shut up and curses himself internally. Niall for his part looks like he is trying to decide whether Harry is laughing at his face or not. There’s a few beats of uncomfortable silence, so Harry scratches his brain for something to say.

 

“I’d like that.” Harry finally says.

 

Later that night, when he’s at home tucked under the safety of his quilt, Harry tells himself that he just accepted because Niall looked too pitiful looking at him the way he did.

 

 

 

Harry scrunches his nose in disgust and tries his best to tune out the sound of Niall’s chews. He makes a quick mental note; never let Niall buy popcorn when they go together to the movies and then he mentally slaps himself; this is not a thing. This is a one-off. An act of charity, you may say. Although it is sort of nice; the way Niall lets his head rest on Harry’s shoulder and how their knees are brushing together. (Later, when Harry uses the toilet and notices that he’s been basically assaulted by popcorn, he frowns and repeats like a mantra, _not again, not again, not again._ )

 

 

 

Yes again.

 

In Harry’s flat, watching Walking Dead and _, there’s popcorn_.

 

By the looks of it, Niall is trying to make himself a nest on Harry’s neck. He’s sitting next to him on the couch; his knees poking into Harry’s calf and the upper part of his body flush against Harry’s side, his nose digging almost painfully on Harry’s neck.

 

Harry wants to talk to him about personal boundaries. He wants to snap at him for chewing with his mouth open, he wants to lean his head on top of Niall’s, kiss his temple, maybe.

 

He wants to do a lot of things. A lot of things that involve Niall. Maybe  he wants to do a lot of things to Niall. But he just sits there, allowing Niall to get popcorn all over his couch (and clothes). He just sits there and freaks out when he tries to come up with a snarky remark about Niall, and comes with none.

 

Before he leaves, Niall gets on his tiptoes and throws his arms, (scrawny arms) around Harry’s neck, then kisses him. (It’s been so long since the last time Harry was kissed that he doesn’t remember if kissing is meant to feel this good.)

 

 

 

From then on it all goes downhill.

 

Niall stops being stupid Niall and starts being, well, just Niall. In the worst cases it’s “ _Oh yes, babe, you are so fucking tight_.”

 

Niall is lazy Sunday afternoons spent watching crappy television in their underwear or making lasagna for two, extra cheese, because Niall loves cheese.

 

Niall is long walks through Hyde Park when the blond comes to pick Harry up at the coffee shop so they can have some dinner and spend the night at Harry’s. Or Zayn giving Harry  funny looks whenever he sleeps at Niall’s and has to go to his classes in the same clothes he wore the day before. (That’s preferable than borrowing some of Niall’s tacky clothes.)

 Niall is great sex and little sleep. Probably too much sitting around talking in hushed voices until its way past Harry’s usual bed time and he curses inwardly remembering that next day he is supposed to wake up early to attend his History of Medicine class.

 

 

The thing is that Harry is not sure if he likes or not the path this is taking. He knows he likes waking up to Niall being sprawled on top of him or the way they snuggle next to each other on the couch and watch whatever is on TV. He also credits Niall for the way everything feels lighter lately. Less… grey. . He might like the ways Niall fills in all the pieces _that were missing in his lif_ e before or he might just like Niall.

 

However, sometimes it feels too much. Sometimes _Niall_ is too much. Sometimes he is all over the place; changing Harry’s plans, fucking up his routine and turning his world upside down. There are times Harry can’t breathe around him; times when he gets overwhelmed. Sometimes, Louis makes one of his comments (“ _Wow , you are smiling? You must have it bad, mate_ ”) and Harry shuts down.

 

 

 

“So, you and Niall…” Louis wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry pushes him away and moves past him.

 

“Shut up Louis.”

 

“He tells me he’s been holed up in your house for the last two weeks.” Louis presses on. “You bought him a toothbrush and everything?” He wiggles his eyebrows _again._

 

“Seriously Lou. Fuck off.”

 

“So you two have turned your house into a love nest, right?

 

Harry ignores him and pours some tea in a mug burning a finger in the process. Then he turns, smiles at the costumer (brings his wounded finger to his mouth) and hands him the tea and his change, “Thank you.” He says. The customer looks at Harry’s finger still in his mouth and winks at him.

 

Louis chuckles somewhere behind him and Harry blushes profusely and frowns; this has been a long day and he can’t wait to get home.

 

 

 

When he does, though, he almost faints.

 

Niall is perched on the couch. Pretty much in the same position Harry left him this morning. But his flat, his flat _definitely_ isn’t the same.

 

There’s music blasting from the speakers, and Harry wonders why his neighbors haven’t complained yet. There’s rubbish (there’s literary no other name for it) scattered all over the floor. Clothes, smells, and wow, is that his Immunology textbook laying under that greasy box of pizza?

 

“Niall, what’s all this?” He asks evenly.

 

“Uh?” Niall looks at him, and then around, confused. Then, he chuckles, ”Oh, made a bit of a mess earlier.”

 

“A bit of a mess?” He tries to be nice. He really tries. But… “It looks like a fucking hurricane has been through my flat!”

 

“Shh.” Niall hushes, then open his arms, “Come here. We’ll pick it up later.”

 

Harry tries to bite his tongue. He can’t. “We? I’ve been all the fucking day working my ass off and now I come home to this?”  He exclaims waving his arms around.

 

Niall sits up on the couch. He takes off his snapback and ruffles his hair in a swift movement, “Don’t worry. Just lay or something. I’ll fix this.”

 

“No, Niall.  I have to study and I can’t because there’s a fucking box of pizza over my book, and what’s with music, are you deaf?” As he says this, he walks towards the radio and turns it off. “And what’s that smell?”

 

Niall bites his lip and blushes. He looks up at Harry guiltily, “Oh, yeah. That. I knew you’d be tired when you came home so I tried to cook us dinner.” He says. There’s a pause and Niall closes his eyes and flinches. “Tried being the key word here.”

 

Harry walks slowly towards the kitchen. Fuck, is that smoke?

 

For the next minutes Harry starts running around his flat, doing this and that.

 

Five minutes later he reappears in the living room, where Niall is still sitting on the couch, this time looking sad.

 

“Here.” Harry walks towards him and hands him his toothbrush. “I think it’s best if we call this whole thing off.”

                                      

“Harry…”

 

Harry feels something snap inside of him, “What!?” He growls.

 

“Let’s just talk. Just… Talk to me. Please.”

 

Harry retorts, “What to do you want me to say, Niall?”

 

“I just want to know what is going in your mind.” Replies the blonde.

 

Harry tastes acid in his mouth. He tries to stop the words but his lips are moving on their own accord almost as if he was vomiting his thoughts, “I… I think that you are a fucking disaster.” He starts with a wavering voice. He feels somehow liberated so he adds, “I don’t know how you can live like this.” He waves his arms around frantically, “Like, how old are you, 21? You are not studying or working, you don’t have any plans for the future, you just drink and walk around with that stupid top tank and your silly quiff and expect that your life will sort itself, don’t you?”

 

 

He regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth. But now it’s all in the open and he can’t take it back. He braves a glance at Niall and his chest clenches when he notices that the blonde is at the verge of tears.

 

Niall gets up hesitantly. He wipes his palms on his trackies and walks towards the door slowly.

 

“I’m really sorry, Harry.” He mumbles. “You don’t really know how sorry I am.”

 

Harry nods but he opens the front door for him. Niall opens his mouth to say something but his face falls and soon he’s running down the stairs.

 

For his part, Harry tries to get rid of the lump in his throat, of the constriction in his chest.

 

 

 

Niall doesn’t show up  at the coffee shop for the rest of the week. He doesn’t show up and Harry can’t stop looking at the door of the coffee shop every couple of minutes almost hopefully. 

 

He expects Niall to come with every cold gush of air that comes through the door. But it’s never him.

 

“This time you went too far, Styles.”

 

Harry heaves a sight exasperatedly, and wonders how is this his life. “Louis, not now.”

 

“You really crossed the line, Harry.” Louis continues. “He’s so upset. You really need to fix this.”

 

“Someone had to tell him the truth at some point.” Harry huffs.

 

“What truth, Harry?” Louis exclaims, “Your truth? Not everyone wants to live their lives like you do!”

 

Harry snaps his neck to look at him, his eyes narrowed and dark. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

There’s a few beat of silence where they just look at each other defiantly, and when Louis talks again, he doesn’t reply Harry’s question. “You are being stubborn,” He says, quieter now. “Do you think I didn’t notice the way you keep looking at the door every five seconds. You miss him, Harry!”

 

Harry shakes his head. His hands are shaking and he’s fighting to breathe because there’s not enough oxygen in the fucking room.

 

“No I don’t,” He denies, “He’s dumb and loud and a slag and I can’t stand being around him for longer than five minutes before…” His voice becomes quieter and quieter and in the end he trails off.

 

“Before you want to shove him against a wall and kiss him silly?” Louis offers.  “You can insult him all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been acting like a fucking emo since the other day!”

 

Harry brings his hands to his ears, trying to block Louis’ word. “God!” He exclaims, so suddenly that Louis startles, “Why do you keep sticking your nose in everyone’s life? Who gave you the fucking right?”

 

Louis exhales loudly, “I do because I care!” He snaps, “Why does it bother so much that someone cares about you? Why do you keep pushing everyone away?” He takes a step forward with each question and soon Harry feels trapped against the counter.

 

They look at each other. Their faces red and their chests heaving with lack of oxygen. Harry takes off his apron, discards it carelessly on the floor and stomps towards the door.

 

 

 

Harry stops going to the gym after that. He wakes at nine instead of at seven, and he tries to get to the coffee shop as late as possible so he can postpone facing Louis. He has resigned himself to the situation; has started to accept that his life is going back to how it was before Niall but his heart still jumps in his chest whenever someone with a snapback comes into the coffee shop.

 

 

 

Two weeks pass before Harry finally catches sigh of the familiar stripes of Niall’s American flag tank top as the blonde walks towards the counter with his eyes casted on the floor.

 

A rush of relief floods through Harry’s veins at the sight of the blond because, for a moment, he thought he wouldn’t get to see Niall again.

 

Niall doesn’t have to look at the menu anymore; he knows it by heart. He just stops in front of Harry looking comfortable in his clothes, and warm, and snuggly. He looks like himself but at the same time he looks completely different. A broken version of himself, perhaps. And hologram. Less confident, less all over the place, definitely less Niall and Harry’s guts churn at the thought that he is the one responsible for that.

 

Niall orders coffee on the way and Harry opens his mouth to say something, but his brain right now is a nebulous space that refuses to cooperate with him. So instead, he turns around and busies himself with the coffee and, if this wasn’t such an automatic thing for him to do, he would have spilt the coffee all over his shaky hands. He’s afraid to turn around and face Niall again. He wants to postpone the moment as much as possible. If Niall doesn’t get the coffee, Niall doesn’t go. So the longer he takes, the longer Niall will be here.

 

He understands his plan won’t work when Niall starts clearing his throat with impatience. So he puts the lid over the coffee and takes a little detour before he places the order on the counter, in front of Niall.

 

“This is on the house.” Harry mutters timidly, nudging with his knuckles a white paper bag in Niall’s direction.

 

Niall takes a glimpse at the paper bag and smiles at him. It’s a raspberry muffin. Niall’s all-time favorite. It’s a pathetic way to ask for forgiveness, but fuck, Harry’s brain isn’t working properly and it’s all he can do right now without suffocating. 

 

Niall takes a napkin from the napkin holder and fiddles with it. Says, “Louis told me you were sorry.”  He looks at Harry with a glint of hope but his question is met with silence. “I want to hear it from you.” Niall presses on.

 

Harry looks at his hands and grunts something intelligible that he finishes with a frustrated “fuck” under his breath.

 

Niall takes a piece of his muffin with his fingers, brings it to his mouth and wipes his fingers in his top and Harry doesn’t even flinch because he is about to cry.

 

Niall talks again, softly, “He also told me that you are doing all this because you are in love with me and that scares the shit out of you.”

 

Harry keeps his eyes casted on his hands. More silence.

 

“If that’s the case…” He adds desperately, “Well, you could just say it. There’s no need for all of this.”

 

This time the silence stretches longer between them and soon Harry understands that Niall won’t say another word until he speaks. “Look.” He starts, “Louis really needs to back off, and you shouldn’t be listening to anything he says on the first place.”

 

Niall runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “Yeah. Right. I dunno I just thought he might have a point because I don’t see why else would you be acting like this.”

 

Acting like what? Harry muses internally. Acting like an asshole? Because he _IS_ an asshole, He thought he had made this one point clear by now. He’s just the way it is. He doesn’t have to change for anyone. Fuck this. Fuck everyone.

 

“Didn’t it cross your mind that I just didn’t like you?” Harry questions bitterly, “Not everybody does, just get over it, no need to take it personally.”

 

“But you’ve been rude with me since day one, before you even got the chance to know me!” The blond accuses hitting the counter exasperatedly. He leave his hand there, and Harry’s hand (also flat against the counter) twitches with the need to touch him.

 

“Don’t feel that special, okay?” Harry retorts flatly. “I do that with everybody. It’s not just you.”

 

“Why are you doing this?” Niall exclaims brokenly, “I thought we were past this. We were fine two weeks ago! What’s changed now? And don’t tell me it’s because I made a mess of your flat. I know it’s not about that.”

 

“As I said, Niall, you can’t be liked by everybody,” Harry repeats willfully.

 

Niall snorts humorlessly and takes his coffee and his paper bag. Then he retorts, “Yeah. But for some stupid reason I want you to like me. I guess that proves me just as dumb as you claim I am.”

 

He turns around dramatically and starts walking towards the door and Harry feels a pang in his chest and a surge of  adrenaline running through his body.

 

“ _Fuck_.” He curses.

 

 He takes a look around. Notices there are a couple of customers staring at the scene. Wow, they must have just offered a good show.

 

He wants to go after Niall and slap him for leaving like that. Harry wants to find the blonde and have a go at him for leaving him standing in the middle of the coffee shop looking like an idiot in front of his customers. Mostly, though, he just needs to make sure Niall won’t walk out of his life again.

 

No. Niall’s place is here, in the coffee shop, stealing his food, or in Harry’s bed, under him, sweaty, stretched and moaning like a porn star. Niall’s place is with him. Full stop.

 

And maybe Harry is scared and reluctant to give up on his independence, reluctant to trust in someone and  let someone be there for him. Maybe life with Niall is too intense, too much. But life without Niall…life without him is stealing longing glances at the door of the coffee shop hoping it will be him and feeling his guts twist when he realizes  it’s not. It’s sleeping in until late because there’s no real reason to wake up. It’s cold empty beds and sour coffees. Life without Niall is a sour coffee, effective, practical yeah. Just… just not something that you can actually enjoy.

 

 

Harry curses again and  looses up his apron hurriedly, and soon he is running through the door Niall just closed with a  bang. He takes a quick look around the street. Notices Niall turning left and disappearing. He curses internally and takes off after him, “Niall!” He shouts breathlessly. “Wait!”

 

The blond stops on his tracks. He turns around and looks at Harry, surprise written all over his face.

 

Harry catches up with him, crouches down, and leans his weight on his knees in a panting mess. Niall waits patiently.

 

Harry swiftly wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his sleeve and shifts to stand up properly.

 

“You are not dumb, Niall.” Harry says then, his voice still wavering a little.

 

Niall rolls his eyes getting ready to say something hurtful but Harry wraps his hand around the blonde’s wrist and repeats. “You are not dumb, and I do like you.”

 

Well, that shuts Niall up.

 

“I know I said a lot of things, and I’m going to be honest Niall, I think most of them.” Harry braves a look at Niall and doesn’t let himself be discouraged by the frown on the blonde’s face. “You are a disaster, and I think that this,” He clutches at Niall’s tank top and brings the blonde closer, “is ridiculous, but for some stupid reason I still like you. That’s why I gave you the muffin, and maybe that’s why I was jumpy?” He looks at Niall, who raises an eyebrow, “Okay, that’s why I was an asshole with you.” He admits, “And I just ran out of the coffee shop leaving it unattended, and fucks sake! I’m probably gonna be fired for it, but I don’t even care because...”

 

He takes a deep breath. Wills himself not to rant. He looks at Niall intently and god, he wants to get his point across, he needs Niall to understand this. “What I mean is that yeah you are a disaster, and I really I don’t understand how you can be so reckless, so… so…” He trails off, “But I still like you. Like… a lot. And I really, really want to like me back even if I am, well, rude, and a jackass and just…”

 

He doesn’t say anything else. He can’t. Because Niall is kissing him.  Not just kissing. Like really, really enthusiastic kissing, and then Harry remembers, that kissing hasn’t always been this good. No. Kissing Niall, that’s what makes the difference.

 

However, suddenly Niall pushes him away and Harry blinks at him in confusion, “Hey, careful!” the blonde exclaims then, “You are crushing my muffin.”

 

Harry laughs. ( _he fucking laughs_ ), and Niall  looks at him in awe because this might be the first time he hears the younger boy laugh so carefree, so heartily, so…. real.

 

Harry strokes Niall’s cheek with the back of his hand and cups his face with his hands to  bring him down for a second  kiss.

 

“ _Fuck the muffin_ ,” He thinks. “ _Fuck the muffin, fuck everything, he’s kissing Niall now, everything else can fuck off_ ”.


End file.
